Roleplay from Godric Tórrarin ka Habb
"..And you have abandoned the Phoenix Court entirely. Having fled to the southern crust of the continent."
Godric stiffens at the remark but bites his tongue. Listening to the younger Renodin speak brings back memories of Asher. He refers to birthright and what is owed, the idea that he is somehow deserving of greater. Idle fingers trail towards the hilt of his sword and Godric stills his breath - Nemean's fingers drift away and Godric allows himself to settle but he remains attentive.
"..We serve not Caligus, our lineage, we have birthright."
Godric's nostrils flare at the thought. As if that skinny whelp Asher earned anything - that he was not just a smooth talker with a lust for power. As Nemean begins to walk downhill to his horse Godric shakes his head, "Your mother did not trust me, she trusted Tor. Because we both trust in Him she knew my motivations to be true. You, in a sense, are trustworthy to me because your motivations are as plain as your father's were." Godric steels himself for the reaction, if any. "No matter what you think, our only birthright is death. Your mother understood this. The power of Man is miniscule to that of Tor. Riches become ash, lands become dust, memories become whispers on the wind. You are your father's son but do not consign yourself to his mistakes." Godric's voice is rising as years of anger, things he wishes he said start to bubble up. He sits back on his horse and kicks to wheel the horse about.
"Safe travels, Nemean Aydensson. May Tor steady you when you are weak." Godric's horse sets off on a trot to meet with his escort and back to his troop.
